


After the Dawn

by eveshka



Series: The Dawn King Cycle [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Here There Be Spoilers, Spoilers, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 15,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveshka/pseuds/eveshka
Summary: This was going to suck. This was going to suck beyond any words that Prompto had in his not-so-extravagant vocabulary, suck beyond… well, just about everything he’d lived through yet. And following the swordsman up the stairs of the Citadel was one of those things you just had to live through.





	1. Chapter 1

“Let’s go.”

The words broke the silence of dawn, causing Prompto to finally blink and realize just how damned bright it was getting. He looked back at the entirely too still figure on the ground, a reflex. How many times had he looked to Ignis for guidance, for confirmation… for… _validation_. And now where would he look? In the mirror? Not bloody likely, as Ignis would have said.

Prompto took a deep breath, tore his gaze away from the man who seemed so much smaller now, and nodded firmly. “Yeah.”

This was going to suck. This was going to suck beyond any words that Prompto had in his not-so-extravagant vocabulary, suck beyond… well, just about everything he’d lived through yet. And following the swordsman up the stairs of the Citadel was one of those things you just had to live through.

So up the stairs Prompto went. And he forced himself not to look back.

 

The Citadel was quiet; the only sounds other than their footsteps being from the hum of the lights. They’d been here not three hours ago, and it hadn’t felt so empty then. Was it the Citadel itself in mourning, or was it his heart? Prompto didn’t know so he kept walking behind Gladio, still not looking back.

The elevator doors were open, and that made Gladio turn to look to Prompto, who shrugged. They boarded, Gladio pushed the button, and the doors closed.

Prompto had always hummed along with any elevator music that happened to be playing, and he’d been in these elevators enough to know all the songs. But now, there wasn’t anything coming from the speakers. It lent an eerie feeling to an already unsettled sensation of disassociation, as if he wasn’t truly here and was only walking through memory.

But memory didn’t ding when the doors opened and accompany a sickly sweet scent in the air that both men knew entirely too well.

 

Down the short hall, the air grew thicker, and by the time they’d reached the Throne Room, Prompto was swallowing hard in a sweat of nausea. He steeled himself when Gladio opened the door, and swallowed hard twice at the sight.

Gladio barely made it to the planter inside, and Prompto swallowed a third time. He waited for a moment, and then when Gladio bent over the dead foliage again, the blond moved towards the steps to the throne, toward his best friend, his king.

Prompto had seen more than his fair share of death. He’d developed an almost clinical approach to it in the ten years of darkness, but this was _Noctis_. He should have felt something as he climbed the right-hand side of the stairs and saw the blood smoothing over the cracks in the marble. It had already filled in the one that Noct had made as a child on the top landing, trying to heft his father’s sword. Ignis had told him about that.

He should have _felt_ _something_.

The blood pooled at the base of the throne, and Prompto’s eyes slowly traced it along, taking in the details of the black clothing tinted even darker. He didn’t feel anything until his gaze landed on the sword, and then his stomach dropped. He reached the throne itself, and reached out to take Noctis’ hand. It was cool to the touch, starkly missing the warmth and flexibility of life, but Prompto lifted it anyway, bowing to bring it to his lips. He kissed his King’s fingers, and then placed Noctis’ hand back down.

When he turned, he saw that Gladio had begun climbing the stairs, his own gaze fixated on the bowed head over the all-too-familiar sword. “Prompto. You remember where the garage is?” Gladio's voice was strange in the air, something making it deeper and rougher than before. Prompto didn't want to think about it, so he just nodded. “Good. Go down and bring a car around. Don't care what you have to do. Just get one.”

Right. A car. If any of them still worked. And had fuel. And he could find the keys. It beat standing there and thinking about Noctis on the throne, or Ignis out there in the sun. Prompt shut his thoughts off and nodded to Gladio, then moved down the stairs and back to the elevator.

The ride to the basement garage felt like an eternity, and when he got there, Prompto looked around and his gaze fell on a familiar car. Well, if it couldn't be the Regalia, then it would be the Star of Lucis, even if it did have two doors. He approached, touching the driver’s door, surprised when it opened. And the keys? In the ignition. But would it start? It had sat here for ten years, and he expected it would be as dead as its owner- his mind slammed the door on that thought.

He slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The vehicle started without protest, and for a moment, Prompto had an ugly mental image of Ardyn driving through the ruined city in the car that belonged to Noctis, just because he _could_. The gunner shuddered, closed the car door, put it in reverse and carefully backed out of the parking space.

The hardest part of getting up to the surface was figuring out the trigger to the gate that kept the car in the garage. In the end, he accidentally tripped it by nosing up close to the gate and the aged sensor finally seeing the movement. At least, that’s what he thought had happened. For all he knew, the car had a black box that talked to the door or something. Either way, the gate finally went up and he pulled out into the light of the still-dawning day.

 

When Prompto pulled around and into the roundabout in front of the Citadel steps, his heart returned to his teeth. Gladio was sitting beside the two still forms, his face buried in his hands. Shoving his thoughts and emotions back down, Prompto brought the car to a stop and got out, walking around the nose of the car to open the passenger door.

Gladio looked up and Prompto watched his expression as it shifted through emotions. Disbelief, annoyance, and then a watery sort of smile as he nodded. “Good choice.” Even if it would be harder to maneuver… Prompto stopped that train of thought too, instead moving to do what needed to be done.

It took entirely too long, but eventually they secured the men in the back of the Star of Lucis, and after Gladio settled into the passenger seat, Prompto glided the Star of Lucis away from the Citadel.

He did not comment that the rear view almost made it look as if Noctis and Ignis both had fallen asleep, that the king’s head had shifted to rest against the advisor’s. He didn’t complain when Gladio turned the air on cold and high. And he didn’t try to make small talk like he had all those years ago when leaving Insomnia in the Regalia. He just kept his eyes on the road, for a multitude of reasons, though he’d have given anything to be chided by that flick of a wrist. Anything to hear that tut. Anything to hear that sleepy complaint asking why Prompto, of all people, was in the driver’s seat.

The Star of Lucis drove out of Insomnia and into the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Getting to Hammerhead might have been easier on foot.

At points, Prompto had to stop the car and allow Gladio out to move rubble or to help him negotiate the least damaged path over the broken road. Once, he had to completely off-road it and winced at every whack to the undercarriage. _Have a care, Prompto. This is the Star of Lucis, not some half-wit hobo’s bright pink monstrosity…_ oh, _Six_. His mental impersonation of Ignis was shattered by a horrible thought. How much did Prompto want to bet that Ardyn had camouflaged the Star with an illusion and driven her around Lucis because he _fucking could?_

He swore softly under his breath and Gladio looked over at him. “Yeah.” His voice was still rough, but there was a note of sympathy there that Prompto hadn't heard in the other man’s voice in a very long time. He didn’t bother to elaborate or correct the assumption that he was cursing for any specific reason. The less Gladio had to be upset about, honestly, meant the less that Prompto had to talk about. And the last thing Prompto wanted to do right now was _talk_.

As they approached Hammerhead, Prompto sounded the horn in his pattern, though now that it was daylight, he probably hadn't needed to do so. The gates were open and people were milling about in the parking areas, blinking up at the sun in various states of disbelief and delight.

The Star wove its way up to the garage, and Prompto rolled down the window as Cindy approached, calling over her shoulder. “Now there’s a sight for sore eyes, that’s the Star of Lucis, boys!” When she got close enough to stick her head in the window, however, she went pale and closed her mouth, backing away and opening the garage. As Prompto pulled in, Cindy took her hat off and followed behind.

Cid was inside, puttering at the table in the back, and he turned when the Star’s engine cut out and Cindy pressed the button to close the garage behind them. “Pawpaw, wait.” Her voice was soft in the sudden silence, and Gladio opened the passenger door to get out.

Prompto folded his hands atop the steering wheel, rested his forehead against them, and tried to gather his heart. Finally, after hearing low words exchanged between Gladio, Cid, and Cindy, Prompto sat back, opened the door, and stepped out of the car.

Cid hadn’t cried for Regis. But when he looked into the back seat of the Star of Lucis and saw the pair of men as they were, his face crumpled and he couldn’t help it. Prompto turned away from the older man’s grief, staring up at the ceiling and threatening himself if he so much as made a sound. His own tears pooled in his eyes and he glared at the light overhead as if daring them to fall. It took a minute, but he regained control of himself and turned to see Cindy drawing her grandfather away from the Star.

Gladio looked across the roof to Prompto, and Prompto nodded. They needed to talk, to decide what was to be done, and time was of the absolute essence.

 

In the end, it had been an easy decision. Gladio backed his old truck into the garage beside the Star, and the four of them moved Noctis and Ignis into the truck’s bed, gently covering them with a tarp, and then Gladio and Prompto had headed back out. The Star would stay with Cindy, and the two men headed back out with heavy hearts.

Gladio drove them up as close to the overlook as he could, and then they made their way along slowly, carrying their burdens and their hearts up to the last place they’d camped. It was a fitting resting place indeed. Kingsglaive coats shed, the pair began to work.

Digging the grave took hours. Twice as wide, for where Noctis went, Ignis followed, and the two thus entwined should stay. Prompto had been adamant about that, and Gladio truly couldn’t argue. It was hot, hard, backbreaking work, but it was a labor of love and loss, and neither man complained. They worked, rested, worked, and rested again.

Gladio walked back to the truck once and returned with water and something that reminded Prompto of that horrible tofu that Ignis had made, but it was food, and Prompto had learned long ago to just eat and ignore the taste. He applied that principle now, and choked down the strange rubbery protein and turned back to digging.

Finally, when the sun was past its apex, they decided it was time.

They unfolded the tarp into the ground first. Then Noctis, Gladio lowering him carefully to Prompto, and the blonde placing him just so, on the left of the grave. Ignis was next, and though it hadn't been intended, the grave was narrow enough that his arm ended up pressed against Noctis’, hands almost laced together. It seemed fitting, so they wordlessly agreed to leave them be. Entwined in death as they had been in life; the King and his Advisor hand in hand.

After a moment, Prompto reached down and collected the necklace from around Ignis’ neck. Gladio frowned but didn’t say anything when Prompto waved him off and pocketed the skull on the chain. After all, Ignis had left someone behind, and Prompto was certain Gladio didn’t know. Only then, did Prompto carefully work the remaining tarp over the two and allow Gladio to pull him up out of the grave to start the long process of replacing the earth they’d dug up.

 

It was dusk by the time the ground was level, and they stood quietly, looking at the grave, and Prompto didn’t know what Gladio was thinking. For the first time since they’d left Insomnia however, he felt compelled to talk. “That’s it. End of the road. What did we just do? What are we going to tell people? If they want a formal grave, somewhere to remember them by… what do we say? Noct, he wouldn’t want the fuss, and Ignis…”

“We tell them that Noctis ascended. The Dawn King. Let them build a temple, a tomb, a statue… whatever they want to do, but he’s gone. That’s what we tell them,” Gladio replied, his gaze on the upheaved ground in front of them. “Up here, he’ll be safe if no-one knows.”

 

“And Ignis?” Prompto swallowed, unwilling to let the memory of the advisor fade. “He should be remembered, too.” He could hear Ignis’ trademark reply in his head. _Come now, I’m nothing special._ But to Prompto, Ignis had been a constant. Even though his role was advisor to Noctis, Ignis had guided Prompto as well and the blond would be damned if he let that go unappreciated.

 

“He’s with Noct. We tell them that, and it’s the Six-damned truth.”

 

Yeah, okay. Prompto could live with that, but the whole thing still bothered him. “They deserve better. They gave their lives… they gave up everything.”

“I _know_ ,” it was a growl, and Prompto looked at Gladio, and then down at the ground. He heard Gladio sigh, and a hand rested on his shoulder. “I’m afraid, Prompto. Afraid of what would happen if people know where they’re buried. I’m afraid that… that they’ll be disturbed, and I can’t accept that. I’m his _Shield_.”

_Oh_. And Prompto closed his mouth. He didn’t object when Gladio moved to collect the shovels and his coat. He didn’t complain when they left their hearts buried in the ground, and he didn’t speak through the drive back to Hammerhead. Instead, he held himself still, waiting until he could get somewhere alone to let the walls down and allow his heart to break again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was exhausted, filthy, and so far past remotely okay that he just couldn’t think anymore.

The return to Hammerhead was steeped in silence, and Prompto stumbled out of the truck, unwilling to even look at the Star of Lucis. He was exhausted, filthy, and so far past remotely okay that he just couldn’t think anymore. He wanted a shower, sleep, food, and most of all he wanted his heart back from where he’d just buried it with his brothers.

So, when he’d staggered towards the building where his berth was, his eyes fell on the red jumpship in the distance, and it didn’t quite connect until Aranea was there, grabbing him and hugging him tightly. He was hugging her before he realized it, and her voice was soft in his ear. “We came as soon as dawn broke, dropped everything and made for Hammerhead. Cindy won't talk to me, and I was afraid I'd lost you.”

He struggled for a moment, and Aranea stepped back, her hands on his arms, grey eyes searching his face. “Prompto?” Her voice was soft and worried. “What happened?”

He stood there, just breathing. All the things that he could say had fled him. He’d been on the go now for so long that he didn't know how long he'd been awake, how long it had been since… his mouth opened and words fell out, words that he wasn't thinking, wasn't acknowledging. “Ardyn’s dead. It's over. He's dead, it's over, and they're gone.”

“They?” Aranea looked around behind Prompto, and on seeing no one with him, drew him into her arms again. Her voice was soft against his ear. “Prompto, talk to me. Who is gone?”

Her embrace was warm, but Prompto didn't think he'd ever feel anything but cold ever again. “Noctis. And Ignis. Gladio… and I…. we…” his voice broke when Aranea moved away and cursed.

“Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_.”

A distant part of Prompto found it amusing, and before he knew it, hysteria was slipping in like water in an over full cup. “Yeah. It's shit,” he agreed. “It's all shit. The two best things that ever came out of this shithole world, and they're gone. I’m still here and it’s all shit.” He was laughing, crying, clinging to Aranea as if she were his lifeline.

She held him close again, making soft noises at him. “Okay, okay. Let’s get you cleaned up and…” Her words dissolved into his head, but his heart wasn’t listening. He knew she was still talking, moving him, walking him somewhere, but he was lost in his thoughts, a mental voice that had just the right twist of a sardonic twang talking over anything Aranea was saying.

_You’re right; it has gone to shit, and you didn’t even try to change it, did you?_

He knew that voice, and his blood ran to ice in his veins.

_You just stood there like a good little soldier following orders while your king went off to die._

His heart constricted, the world starting to close in around him, frigid and white.

_Kings aren’t supposed to die._

His stomach twisted.

_Soldiers die for their country, so why are you still here?_

His lungs burned and echoes of gunfire ricocheted through his head.

_Are you so empty that you blindly follow orders?_

He couldn’t breathe and heavy footsteps matched the frantic beat of his heart.

_Like… a good dog, or perhaps even the perfect… MT?_

A memory flashed scarlet eyes in front of him and icy air filled his lungs and sliced through him in waves of pain.

Words echoed in his head and he fought to focus his thoughts. _Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._ “Shut up!” He screamed it, trying to drown out Ardyn’s voice in his head, slapping his hands at something so he could cover his ears. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

 

Silence fell.

 

Water. He heard water. Felt it. Where was he? He blinked, eyes focusing on a wall with white paint peeling from humidity. Water pelted him in the head, and he looked up to see the familiar shower head from the Hammerhead showers that had been rigged up in the back.

He was naked and wet and in the shower and… he half-turned with a sinking feeling in his stomach, and Aranea was there, as naked and wet as he was. She had a washcloth and soap in her hands, holding them as if at a loss.

_See? Even Aranea expects you to behave._

Panic washed over him, and he crumpled to the floor in a ball.

“Prompto!”

 

It took an hour for Prompto to come back from wherever he’d gone. He was lying in a nest of blankets in the jumpship, but he didn’t remember getting there. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a tank top. He didn’t know how that happened. What he did know was that it felt as if he had been rolled in cotton and his head was heavy and everything felt so far away.

There were voices nearby and he sat up to see who it was, but the movement made the world spin. He clung to the blanket in sheer desperation, hoping that he didn’t fall off of the floor on the next wild swing of the walls.

He must have made some sound, for a hand gripped his shoulder and he came slamming back down onto the floor with a clarity that knocked the cotton away and left him out of breath. “Hey… easy. Don’t try to get up. Just stay there and rest.” It was Cor, his voice low and calming. Prompto responded without thinking about it.

_See? You truly are the perfect MT soldier._

Prompto screamed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto Argentum jolted awake with the memory of blood-filled terror in his mouth.

Prompto Argentum jolted awake with the memory of blood-filled terror in his mouth.

He sat up from the nest of blankets, looking around the interior of the jumpship and wondering why he was there instead of his berth. Beside him, the nest of blankets shifted, and Aranea surfaced, her hair bound in a messy ponytail. Prompto’s wariness rippled into relief, and he leaned over and kissed her on the nose. “Heyas,”

She swatted lightly at him, and then her eyes snapped open and she grabbed him by the shoulder. “Prompto? You okay?” Concern was in her gaze as she searched his face, and he felt his cheeks warm under her scrutiny.

“Yeah,” He replied, ducking away from her and stretching. “Sorry. I only vaguely remember some of it. I think…” he fumbled for the right words. “I think I was so far beyond tired that my brain was backfiring. Pulling up memories and… messing with me.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly as something flickered. “Did I really scream in Cor’s face?”

The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. “Prompt, you didn’t just scream in his face. You screamed, fought, bit, and scratched like a coeurl.” He felt his ears heat as she spoke, and he couldn’t meet her gaze until she tucked a finger under his chin and tilted his head back to her. “Something had you good, and if you need to talk, you know I'm here for you.”

His smile was more sheepish than he’d intended, but he nodded, taking her fingers from his chin and kissing them lightly. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… a lot to process. I mean… a week ago… and seeing Ardyn again…” he sighed. “Damn it.” His free hand’s fingers raked through his hair. “I told you about Gralea, and Zegnautus. All of that came back when I saw Ardyn.”

Alarm flashed in Aranea’s eyes, but Prompto stilled her. “He’s dead. I watched… _Six_ , ‘Nea. You’d have been so proud of him…” his voice trailed off as he fumbled through memories.  “Noct.  He was… like magic personified. All swishy and stuff.”

For a moment, Aranea gave Prompto a lost little look, and then she smiled. “Swishy and stuff. Oh, Prompto, never change.” She leaned in a kissed his cheek, then rose from the blankets and moved towards the front of the jumpship. “You should probably go find Cor and apologize. Potions don’t work anymore.”

Oh god what had he done to Cor? Prompto’s stomach sank and he stood, running his hands through his hair. “Yeah. Guess I ought to. And find Gladio, try to figure out where we go from here.” He looked around for any clothing, holding up the sweatpants with his hands.

“The big guy jumped in his truck and went back to Insomnia. Said he’d left some things behind and he’d return after he collected everything.” Aranea called from the small enclosure she’d ducked into, before returning with a pair of Prompto’s pants. “Here. I figure you’d rather have these than be caught dead in my old sweats.”

He looked down, and grimaced. Well that would explain why he didn’t recognize them. “Yeah… thanks.” He looked up to see her grinning at him, and with a sheepish smile, he took his pants and made quick work of changing. “Don’t tell me this is your tank top too.”

“Stars, no. It’s Cindy’s.”

Scarlet washed over Prompto and he gaped at Aranea as she laughed and waved her hand. “It’s yours. You left it in the jumpship a few months ago. You just didn’t leave any pants, so I loaned you mine.” She wandered back to the front of the ship and moved out of Prompto’s sight.

“Yeah… okay. I’m just leaving them here then…” He dropped the sweatpants and once he was certain his own trousers were secured, he turned. “You wanna open up and let me out so I can go apologize to Cor?” And take whatever punishment the Marshal deemed appropriate.

“Yup,” she called, and the back hatch opened to daylight. He flinched, squinted, wondered when he’d get used to the sun being back in the sky, and headed out of the ship to discover he was right next to Cotisse Haven, minus the runes.

“Dude…” he said softly. “He said magic was gone, but… I don’t know what I expected.” He’d been talking to himself, but came to a stop when he saw that there was someone on the haven. A rather sour-faced someone with his left arm in a sling, glowering at Prompto as if this was all his fault. Considering that it was Cor, there existed the very strong probability that it was.

“Shit, man,” Prompto started as he climbed up to the haven proper. “I’m sorry. I was out of my head… did I break it?” He was having a hard time wrapping his brain around the fact that he had clearly gotten the best of Cor. The Immortal.

Cor glowered at him for a moment longer before breaking into a wry smile. “You did. And I’m torn about it. On one hand, you fought, and you fought well. On the other…” he motioned to his arm with a grimace. “I promise you this, Prompto: I’ll never underestimate your hand to hand again. You’ve turned into quite the fighter.”

Prompto came to a stop next to Cor and looked at him sadly. “It wasn’t by choice… I think…” memories flickered in the back of his mind, “I think I was always meant to be a fighter. But I chose a different path. And that’s why I was always scared. I was good at fighting, and I was afraid that if people found out, I’d get drafted.”

Cor grunted and glanced at Prompto’s wrist briefly before looking back to his face. “We don’t draft, though I won’t argue that I would have wanted you in the Kingsglaive a lot sooner if I had known how good you were. Hell, if I had gotten my hands on you younger…”

Prompto recoiled and waved his hands at Cor. “No, no, I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t want to fight. It brings up too many things I’d rather leave behind.” It was only then that he realized his wrists were bare. Both of them. He paled, slapping his hand over the barcode and looking at Cor, stricken.

The Marshal placed his good hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “I’ve known for a while, Prompto. Regis told me. We kept it between us, of course. Myself, Regis, and Clarus. And when you made friends with Noctis, Regis was fit to burst with delight. He was so proud of you, we all were.”

Prompto wanted the haven to open up and swallow him whole. They’d known? All these years, he’d done his dead level best to hide everything that identified him as anything other than a ‘normal Lucian boy’ and the King of Lucis and his immediate circle had known?? He made a soft sound of dismay and bowed his head.

Cor’s grip tightened for a moment, and then released his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you some food and you can brief me on Insomnia, tell me where Noctis and Ignis are, and anything else you learned.”

For a moment, Prompto thought he was going to throw up. Cor didn’t know. He looked up, his vision blurry with sudden tears, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “They… didn’t make it, sir. Noct and Iggy… they died in the Citadel.” He took a steadying breath and waited for the inevitable.

The Marshal’s shoulders dropped, and he looked away, nodding. “Damn it. Figured that’s what happened. Come on, let’s go and you can fill me in.” And just like that, Prompto was getting dragged off back to Hammerhead, feeling a bit like a balloon on a string.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto wasn't sure where he and Cor were expecting to eat, because the diner hadn't been a diner for almost damn longer than he could remember being in Hammerhead.

Prompto wasn't sure where he and Cor were expecting to eat, because the diner hadn't been a diner for almost damn longer than he could remember being in Hammerhead. But into the building they went, and up to the stove where a pot of porridge sat bubbling away. Cor dished out two bowls, handed one to Prompto, passed over a spoon, then picked his up and perched on a nearby box with the ease of a serviceman used to eating just about anywhere.

It took Prompto a moment to figure out how to hold the hot bowl without getting burned, but he finally balanced the bowl in one hand, leaned on the counter, and tried not to look at Cor. His first mouthful of porridge, however, slammed him backwards with a wave of memories, and he carefully set the bowl to the side. Talcott had made the porridge: it tasted just like Ignis’ cooking.

Cor was watching him quietly, and Prompto flushed scarlet. “Sorry. I… it's too much. Too close to Ignis’ and I just can't. Not yet.”

“Eat.” Cor replied, spooning up a mouthful. “Or I'll feed it to you.”

“Dude… I broke your arm. You're going to have a hard enough time feeding yourself,” Prompto objected, but the look Cor shot him was enough to make the blond change his mind. “Right. Eating. Following orders, yes sir.” He fumbled the bowl when he heard a low chuckle echo in his mind. Ignoring both the memory of a laugh and Cor's glance, Prompto picked up his spoon and took another bite. Yup. Just how Ignis made it. Ifrit’s ass, how was he going to eat this?

“Prompto.” Cor said. “Don't make me pry it out of you. Start talking. I'll ask questions if I need to.”

Prompto sighed, and decided to start with the most important part first. “Noct knew. The night he came back, he told us. He wasn't meant to survive this. I think Ignis knew.” He was speaking in short sentences, trying to keep himself from babbling. “He used magic somehow to see, Ignis, I mean. And I think… I think when Noct died, magic went with him.”

He got lost in the porridge for a time, stirring it and making patterns with the hills and valleys of slurried grain and water. Cor gave him time, and Prompto worked though his thoughts. “We made our way though Insomnia, holing up in service tunnels and workers stations to rest.” He took a mouthful of the porridge, finding that it tasted nothing like Ignis’ cooking when it was cold. Of course, it was disgusting, but it was better than that tofu stuff, so he ate it.

When Cor wasn’t forthcoming, Prompto forged on, scooping out a spoon of vaguely gelatinous something, and not even bothering to chew. “It was as bad as you’d expect it to be. Daemons and monstrosities everywhere and a near-constant battle to move forwards.” He’d have put the spoon down but Cor was watching while he ate. “And when we finally got to the Citadel… that’s pretty much where everything went to shit.”

“Take a breather. You want something to drink?” Cor’s bowl was empty, and Prompto was barely a third into his. The older man rose and took his bowl to the sink, running water into it and considering it for a moment.

Prompto felt his cheeks heat again, as he was reminded that he’d been the one to break Cor’s arm. “Just leave it; I’ll wash up when I’m done with this. And a drink will be great. Whatever’s handed to me.” He’d stopped being picky about what he ate or drank after the second year of darkness… until now. Now everything reminded him of what they’d lost.

Cor grunted, left the bowl and spoon in the sink, and just turned on the tap to fill two glasses with water. “I’m not going to ask you to walk me through every battle. Just tell me how it happened. Tell me how they fell, and that will be enough.”

Prompto put the spoon down. “Ignis…” He set the bowl to the side and ignored Cor’s short sigh. “It was after Noct put Ardyn down. Noct had gone to his Ascension, and we didn’t know what else to do but hang back and keep the daemons from following him. Ignis, I dunno if he misstepped or what, but one of the biggest Iron Giants I’ve ever seen struck him down in one blow.”

He took the water Cor handed him, and kept talking. If he didn’t, he knew he wouldn’t get it all out. “After that, things just sort of dissolved. The daemons, magic, phoenix downs didn’t work, my guns and Gladio’s sword… everything just seemed to hold for a moment, and then the sun came up. That’s when we knew.”

“Didn’t matter though. We still had to go see.” He left out Umbra and the letters. That was personal. “So Gladio led the way into the Citadel, and Noctis was…” his voice trailed off. If he told Cor there was a body, Cor would want to know where they’d buried him. And Gladio had been right; the fewer that knew, the better. But Cor kept secrets. It made Prompto’s heart hurt, but in the end he just shrugged. “Noct was gone.”

“With Noct and Ignis both gone,” Prompto continued after downing much of the water, “I kind of stole the Star of Lucis and we hightailed it back here before sheer exhaustion took over. Kept it together until I didn’t have to… way past rational thought, you know? And then when I saw Aranea, it all just crashed down on me. Noct, Ignis, Ardyn, Insomnia, all of it.”

He set the glass beside the bowl and then looked up and met Cor’s eyes. “Somehow I lost it and took it out on you. I’m sorry. I can’t explain it. I don’t even know where my head was.”

Oh, he knew all right. He knew and he figured Cor did too. But Cor surprised him, walking over to him and using his good hand to thump Prompto on the back. “I forgive you, so forgive yourself. You’re only human, Prompto.”

Prompto opened his mouth, and at another thump from Cor, closed his teeth around words he couldn't voice. Cor knew. Cor knew, understood, and had still said that. Prompto could almost hear Noctis snort in jest. “Yeah, after all is said and done, I guess I am. Only human, that’s me.”

“Good man,” Cor replied, and then looked to the door. “You finish up in here and rest up a bit. Come find me in a few hours after I get some more information together. Want to make a run into Insomnia and get a look at the place myself. I’d like to have you along being that you’ve already been.”

Prompto straightened some and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll gear up after I was the dishes and catch a few minutes with Aranea.” He swiped the bowl off the counter and headed for the sink, glad to rinse the uneaten porridge down the drain, wondering if he’d ever be able to eat again without feeling sick to his stomach first.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto felt a laugh die somewhere in his chest.

By the middle of the afternoon, he was geared up as best he could be without wearing his Kingsglaive uniform, and moving slowly out of the back of Cor’s truck where he’d settled next to Aranea. They’d come to a rattled halt in front of the Citadel, less than forty-eight hours since Prompto had fought beside Ignis and Gladio. His eyes strayed to the left and then he froze.

“Prompto,” the voice was soft. “Out of your head, and on to your feet,” Cor understood, of course.

Time sped forwards for Prompto, and he waved a hand distractedly. “Yeah. Just… give me a minute, okay?” One foot following the other, he walked to the shadow on the stairs.

It wasn’t a shadow. At least, not in the standard sense of one. It was a shade of a life spilled on the fine marble and left to sink into the cracks within the stone. It seemed a fitting finality for the man who had given so much of his life that his very essence became a permanent part of the Citadel.

Prompto knelt beside the darkened blood and rested his fingers gently against the stone, closing his eyes. The chaos of the battle still hadn’t faded from his mind, though he felt strangely distanced from the memory, as if it had happened in a dream. But when he opened his eyes, the dream was a dark reality splashed upon the steps.

Quiet footsteps brought someone up beside Prompto, and Aranea crouched down, her gaze cast to the darkness. She reached out to Prompto, resting her hand on his far shoulder and he leaned into her,closing his eyes again. At first, he didn’t think he could speak, but when another set of footsteps approached, Prompto found his words had a voice after all. “This is where Ignis fell. The Iron Giants came up there, stronger than anything we’d ever fought. I don’t know if it was because magic failed, or…” he sighed. “All I know is that it was way too soon to lose him.”

A hand rested on his head, an almost paternal action from the military-minded man behind Prompto. “We’ll make sure the price he paid is never forgotten.”

Prompto deflated somewhat with a sigh, opening his eyes to look back at the steps and seeing a memory. “Good. He shouldn’t have had to pay it. Noct knew. He told us before we got here. But Ignis... I told Noct I was willing to pay any price. I’d stand beside him past the end, and do it with a smile on my face.”

Cor’s words broke in before Prompto could continue. “We were all willing. That’s how the brotherhood works. Each of us willing to pay that price for any other member. You, me, Ignis, Gladio, hell, even Aranea came around eventually.” She snorted as Cor continued. “And I’m not telling you not to grieve, Prompto, gods know you deserve it. I’m just asking for a few more hours so we can reclaim our own and give them proper due.”

Bodies, Prompto realized with a jolt. Cor was talking about _bodies_. “We can’t. Noct and Ignis… they’re gone. I’m sorry.” He closed his mouth around the rest of the words that he didn’t dare say. _We buried them on the other side of the river, on that high overlook where we stood when you told him his father was dead. We gave them a private pauper’s funeral and it sucks, but it was the right thing to do. It was the right thing to do._

Cor’s hand rested on Prompto’s free shoulder. “Okay, son. You and Aranea just stay right here while the others go into the Citadel-“ a sound drew his attention away, and then, he heard an incredulous cough. “Amicitia?”

Everyone turned, and Prompto rose to his feet as he saw Gladio come down the front steps. He looked haunted, haggard, older and beaten, but he carried Noctis’ sword on his shoulder and walked with purpose. Lowering the blade, he came to a stop in front of Cor. “The King’s bedchambers. We can at least bury them properly.”

Prompto flinched at the word ‘them’ and felt Aranea’s hand on his arm. He didn’t pull away from her as much as walk to Gladio and rest his hand on the bigger man’s shoulder as he had seen Noctis do with Ignis. He didn’t know what words to offer, so he just gave his broken little smile instead.

Gladio grunted in acknowledgment, and Prompto watched the big man look from Cor to Noctis’ sword. “Got this. Guess it’s as good as anything. Nothing else was left.” It was the right thing to do. The blond looked away and tried not to stare at the memory at his feet.

“We’ll make sure they get their due,” Cor replied, and then called back to the men left in the truck. “All right, you heard him. Take the boxes and I’ll meet you at the door to King’s personal chambers. Anyone setting foot inside before I get there answers to that man, right there.” Prompto looked over in surprise as Cor pointed to Gladio, the bigger man hefting the sword back on to his shoulder.

Prompto felt a laugh die somewhere in his chest. If he laughed now, he’d lose all composure, and he couldn’t do that to the others. He’d already lost it once, and Cor bore the price, so he swore that he’d keep himself together until he was alone. That way, the only person he could hurt was himself.

Beside him, Aranea squeezed his arm and then stepped free. “I’m right here, Prompt. Whatever you need, I’m your girl.”

Prompto patted her hand, fixed a smile on his face, straightened his back, and led the way to the throne room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I just… everything is so messed up right now, and all I want to do is close my eyes and when I open them, Noct and Ignis will be bickering over vegetables. It wasn't this bad ten years ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thalli, I have no words. None. I spent them all trying to come up with something appropriate to say and ran out of my daily allotment before I came close to anything that came close to the gasp and outright stunned amazement that has filled my day.  
> You are a star and I don't know how to thank you enough.

The throne room was exactly as he remembered it, as long as he remembered it without Noctis there on the throne, bent double and held in place by the very sword that Gladio had hefted earlier. And while Prompto hadn’t looked up to see if the bodies were still hanging overhead when he’d last been in here, he found himself looking now.

Nothing, thank the Six. It had probably been an illusion after all, he reasoned. One designed to demoralize and distract. Hadn’t worked. If anything, it had further cemented Noctis’ resolution to end things once and for all.

Aranea noticed and looked up as well, and then cast a glance back to Prompto. He shrugged, unwilling to tell her what he’d seen, knowing that she could handle it, but that it would open new questions. After all, Prompto knew what had happened to the Emperor of Nifelheim. He’d helped… the blond pulled his thoughts away from that fight and shrugged. “Nothing has changed. Big gaping hole. Distressing amount of blood.” He waved his hand as he spoke, deflecting his pain into a dark humor.

Based on the look Cor gave him, the humor wasn’t appreciated. Bitterness crept in and Prompto just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Too soon? Because it was. Is. Too damn soon.” He shook off Aranea’s hand and turned to leave the throne room before he let the pain become something worse. He’d already broken Cor’s arm.

“Argentum.” He ignored Cor, moving out into the hallway. “Prompto.” He kept walking. He wasn’t an MT. He wasn’t a Crownsguard or a Kingsglaive; Noctis was gone. The line of Lucis was gone. There was nothing left that Prompto had sworn to, not even Ignis. “Son.” The voice was desperately close and Prompto spun to glare at Cor.

“I am not your son. I am not your soldier, your subservient or anything else. I’m Prompto Besithia Argentum, and I am just a common man who is going to walk out that door and mourn the people I’ve lost. Got it?” His words were punctuated by pointing at the door to the elevator lobby, his voice a near growl.

Cor just looked at him, then past him for a moment. When his gaze returned to Prompto, he nodded once. “Take the time you need.” His voice softened slightly. “Thank you, Prompto. For your service.”

A hand wrapped gently around Prompto’s wrist, and he knew the touch to be Aranea’s, so he didn’t pull away. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Place is giving me the creeps.”

He left the Citadel, walking down the steps and collapsing at the bottom, sinking onto the last step as far away as he could get from the dark stain and drawing his knees up against his chest. “I’m sorry. I’ll apologize when they get out. I couldn’t stay there. Not anymore. Not after…” his voice trailed off and he looked up at Aranea suddenly. “’Nea… if I tell you something, will you promise to never tell another soul? To keep the secret to the grave?”

“I promise that if anyone learns it, it will not be from my lips. On my honor,” she replied, looking back at him with a soft and gentle smile. “I swear it on my soul.”

He searched her face for a long time, biting his bottom lip, and then finally decided. He lifted his head, glanced around to make sure they were alone, and then he spoke. “At the end, after Ignis fell… Gladio and I… we went to the throne room. To see. Not gonna lie; it was bad. Noct… he was pinned to the throne, his father’s sword through his heart.”

“But…” she started, and Prompto lifted a hand. He looked around again, making sure that she was the only one who could hear what it was he had to say.

“We took them, both of them, and buried them together, somewhere safe. Somewhere away from rumor, from legend, from prying eyes. It sucks, and I didn’t like it, but Gladio’s right: we swore to protect Noct, so I lie. I’ve finally learned how to lie and I hate it, ‘Nea. I hate it with everything that I am.”

“Good,” Aranea said firmly, surprising Prompto. “If you liked lying, then you and I would be about to be having a completely different conversation. But instead, I’m going to tell you that I'm glad you secreted them away. I’m glad that they will never be disturbed. They more than earned that peace. If we need to give the people something tangible to mourn, we can do that later.”

“I just… everything is so messed up right now, and all I want to do is close my eyes and when I open them, Noct and Ignis will be bickering over vegetables. It wasn't this bad ten years ago.”

“Because you knew Noctis would be back, and no matter what happened, you still had Ignis and Gladio to lean on,” Aranea replied, running her fingers through his hair. “And two days ago, right here, your heart got knocked hard. You said Noctis knew, and that he told you. But Ignis was a shock, and that hurts.”

“Oh gods...” Prompto moaned. “Iggy… he left behind someone. He had a companion in Lestallum… I have to find him and tell him.” He buried his face in his hands. “And I've pissed off Cor again. He is going to end me.” His thoughts were on a rollercoaster that didn't seem like it was going to stop any time soon.

“Prompto, he understands. You were right in reminding him that you didn't have the training, you didn't have the military support. When you command people, you learn to compartmentalize and deal with how you feel later. When you're just Prompto Argentum, everything hurts, and you have to figure out how to deal with it.”

He sighed. She was, of course, right. She had more experience in dealing with losses than he had. “Still owe him another apology,” he muttered, lifting his head when he heard the men talking as they left the Citadel and started down the stairs.

Cor walked up to them and looked to Prompto. “All right, then, Prompto? I apologize; you're not one of my men and I was remiss in treating you as such. You were His Majesty’s man, and his best friend. I'd offer my hand in apology, but some young scrapper had to go and break it.” As Prompto looked at Cor, the other man smiled tiredly. “Let's go home, you two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to be camping in the wet wilds of Tennessee this weekend, so depending on how things go, there may not be any updates up until Monday!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When do we mourn? While we're so busy walking, when do we have a moment to stop and grieve?”

Home was Hammerhead and the small tent city that had begun to pop up in the space between the station proper and Cotisse Haven. Anything and everything that could be used to create shelter was suddenly located and used, and a slightly dazed Prompto made his way through the madness towards Aranea’s ship. She rested her hand on his arm, in part to comfort him, and in part to guide him along as they moved.

Once inside the ship, he collapsed in the nest of blankets and held his head as the world around him started to wrap itself in cotton once more. “I can't do it. I can't do it. I'm not halfway through it, ‘Nea, I'm in hell. How am I supposed to keep walking?” His voice sounded muffled to him, and he fell backward into the fabric.

He felt her settle in beside him, and some of the cotton peeled away from his mind when her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. “Prompto, I’m not going to coddle you. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that it will all be okay, because stars know, it’s not. Remember what I told you all those years ago.”

Her touch made the noises in his head go quiet, and he sighed as peace stole in on little cat feet. “Yeah, I do. I’ve got to decide what I want. The rest of it can take care of itself.” She’d told him that ten years ago, straddling his hips and slapping his cheeks, shocking him out of his ennui beside a campfire in the middle of Shiva knew where.

“Damn right it will. So keep walking.”

“When do we mourn? While we're so busy walking, when do we have a moment to stop and grieve?”

She reached out and brushed hair from his face, and he tried to track her expression. Some times she was harder to read than others, but he saw the sadness on her face when she sighed. “I don't know, Prompto. Never quite figured that one out. I just kept on going until one day I looked around and that pain wasn't there anymore.”

“Like what I did after…yeah.” He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, pushing away the impending headache. “I only told you part of it. What happened in Gralea. The big guy and I… we got into it after Noct disappeared, he was angry and grieving and said a bunch of shit. After everything I'd seen in that facility, I just shut it all down. And I don't want to do it again, but it's either that or give in to the raging anxiety monster in my head.”

He laughed, even though it wasn't funny. A defense mechanism, he supposed. When he lowered his hand, she was looking at him, those grey eyes of hers strangely intense. “What? Do I… have I got something on my face?” He couldn't help it; he reached up to his chin, self-conscious.

“Prompto,” she started, looking at him and he felt his stomach flutter. She had a way of taking him apart with her eyes, and he was feeling that same intensity build. “Do you know when I first fell for you?”

That was unexpected. “Uh… nope. Can’t say as I do.” This wasn’t the time for a flippant joke about baby blues or anything else. She was being serious, so he matched her gaze with as much seriousness as he could manage.

“You thanked me for helping you after you said you couldn’t have done it without me. But you weren’t through. Even though you knew you weren’t strong enough to do it on your own, you got on that snowmobile and headed to Gralea anyway.” Her smile softened, and she moved to kiss his cheek, whispering the words in his ear. “And that’s how you keep walking.”

He felt her breath on his cheek, the words sinking in and he pulled back to look at her in amazement. That’s when she’d fallen for him? And not in Malmalam? Not in the lighthouse, but months before? He moved, reaching up to caress her cheek with his thumb, and then he kissed her hard, pulling her down against him so no words were needed.

 

Hours later, Prompto lay awake, watching Aranea sleep. He'd pulled himself out of a nightmare and waited to see if he had made too much noise. He obviously hadn't, so he watched her for a while, and then drew himself to his feet. Slipping on his jeans and tank top, he left the jumpship and walked through the night towards the station.

It was anything but quiet. Perpetual night had left people loose for time, unhinged from the twenty-four hour cycle. Some had maintained it by use of clocks and candles; others had thrown it to the winds and just slept when they felt tired. Prompto was one of the latter. He’d have bet everything he owned that Ignis had worked out a way to keep time, even if he’d just straight-up _counted_.

He wasn’t surprised to see Gladio sitting in the back of his truck, awake and reading by the ambient light from the station. “Heyas,” he leaned against the truck, back against the tailgate and looked out over the tent city. “Hell of a week.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah,” came the reply, and Prompto closed his eyes. So that’s how it was going to be, huh. Ok, he’d just have to deal with that too.

“Okay, good talk. Let’s… do it again some time.” Prompto opened his eyes and pushed away from the truck, lifting a hand and wordlessly starting to walk off towards, well, anywhere. Without the draw of Noctis and the tempering hands of Ignis, there wasn’t much to keep Prompto and Gladio together, he supposed.

His train of thought was derailed when he walked into a growling wall of humanity that wrapped its arms around him and rumbled words that he barely registered until his brain caught up. “Don’t you leave me, Prompto. Don’t you _dare_.”

It took Prompto another few moments to work his own arms free enough to hug Gladio back. “Okay, big guy. Not going anywhere.” He thumped Gladio on the arm, tapping out of the man’s grip, and when the swordsman released him, he stepped back and looked at his friend. “Let’s see what we can find to eat, huh? Then we can talk.”

Gladio nodded, and the two of them headed to the old diner to see what they could scrounge up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the well wishes! I'm in a soft cast now that allows me the use of my fingers, but keeps my thumb in place. Which means... I can write again!! (Working with my non-dominant hand only was just downright awful.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real loser here is anything that dared to get in the way of Prompto Argentum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still way slower than I'd like to be, but getting better! <3  
> The cast will be off at the end of July... I can't wait.

Food turned out to be cup noodles and a can of beans. Prompto had found the Styrofoam cup, and Gladio had turned to the blond with the can in his hand and a dubious expression. “Is this even edible?” Prompto asked a little while later as he inspected the can before glancing at Gladio. Their eyes met and Prompto wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying. All he knew was that he was suddenly sitting on the floor of the old diner, a can of beans in his hands and tears on his face.

Gladio didn’t seem to be faring much better, slumped beside him with his back against the counter. He turned the Styrofoam cup around and around in his hands, staring at it silently. Prompto watched him for several turns, and then rallied himself into speaking. “Are we even going to try to eat this stuff?”

  
“Hell no,” came the rumbled reply. “I don’t wanna be haunted by Iggy’s ghost.”

 

That set Prompto off again, and this time he _was_ crying. The world fell away for a while, and when he came back to himself, he found that the can of beans was in his lap. Gladio’s arm was around his shoulder, and the other man was looking beyond the cup noodle in his hand, gaze set into the distance.

Prompto looked at his can of beans, and then sighed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to zone out on you. I just don’t know what to say. It’s too damn soon for any of this. I mean… we’re barely in our thirties.” _And they’re dead. They’re dead and I’m still here. They believed in me and it cost them their lives._

He didn’t realize he’d been speaking out loud until Gladio’s arm shifted and Prompto found himself being held firmly at arm’s length, a steady amber gaze meeting his. “Prompto, I am so damn sorry. I’d give anything to take those words back, to undo the hurt and pain and years of solitude. I caused those. I did that. And I don’t want to do it again. That’s why I didn’t let you walk away. That’s why I’m here.”

His lower lip was bleeding; he’d bitten into it while Gladio spoke. The copper tang sharpened the bitterness of his words when he offered them. “I’ve always seen myself as lesser, you know? And I compared myself to you guys for so long that it just… it became who I was, because it was who I wasn't.” Prompto shrugged. “And then Altissia happened, and I fell off the train and learned who I really was.”

“What, a skinny runt with the propensity to run off at the mouth? Because I'm pretty sure I've told you that at some point,” Gladio grunted, rising to his feet. “Noct said it didn't matter where you were born. I was stupid and said a lot of things I didn't mean. I was wrong, and I'm sorry.” Prompto watched him look in the pot on the stove, and then Gladio tuned back to him. “Still don't see a loser.”

Prompto looked away. “He called me a failure too.. Verstael Besithia. The evil mastermind behind the MTs and the daemonification of the Empire. I guess you could say he was my father, after a fashion, and I shot him in the face.” At Gladio's expression, he shrugged again. “It was sort of an accident, I guess? But yeah. After all that, you guys rescued me, and I barely had the chance to tell anyone, even Noct. Ignis never learned all of it.” He regretted that.

Gladio stood there, looking at Prompto's in disbelief. “You shot… Verstael Besithia… in the face… and you call yourself worthless.” His hands fell off of Prompto’s shoulders and he pressed them into his own face. “Kid survives falling off a train, spends weeks in the frozen tundra living off the land, kills the ‘evil mastermind’ and still has an inferiority complex. Prompto,” he sighed and lowered his hands, meeting Prompto’s surprised gaze. “You're not a failure. You're a damn hero.”

Gladio continued, thumping Prompto in the chest with one finger for emphasis. “You not only met, but overcame every obstacle life put in your path. Me, Ignis, Insomnia, Altissia, Cartanica, the frozen wastelands, Gralea, Ardyn, ten _years_ of survival, Insomnia again… the real loser here-“ Gladio broke off to slap lightly at Prompto’s face. “Stop biting your lip, you're making yourself bleed and you don't want me to put a bandage there. The real loser here is anything that dared to get in the way of Prompto Argentum.”

“Prompto Besithia Argentum,” Prompto supplied, looking at Gladio and watching the surprise flicker through amber eyes. “Yeah, I'm taking the name. I'm making it mine, gonna make it mean something, somehow. Maybe fund an orphanage. Think that would be enough to start undoing the damage? To make it a name worth something to someone?”

Gladio just looked at him. “Sometimes, you're as maddening as Noct. Thanks, kid.”

“Dude, not a kid.”

“Skinny pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, well, you're a huge ass.”

“Chocobo butt.”

“Garula brain.”

“That's a new one.”

“Thought it up new just for you.”

Gladio grunted as Aranea spoke from the door. “He deflects with humor when things get too awkward. It's one of his more endearing traits.”

“Hey!” Prompto squeaked as he turned to look at Aranea with betrayal written in his eyes. “You’re not supposed to side with him!”

“I’m on my own side, Prompt.” Aranea sauntered up to him and winked before draping her arm around Prompto and then, surprisingly, Gladio as well. “And my side says the two of you are going to be just fine. But just in case, I say we find some beer and a fire, sit around it and tell horrible stories until we can’t see straight.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Gladio replied. “I’ve got beer in the truck.” If he was bothered by Aranea’s closeness, Prompto couldn’t tell.

“Then we’re set. I’ve got the fire. Prompt… go get the blankets and I’ll meet you both at Cotisse.” She disentangled herself and walked back out of the diner, leaving the men to stare at each other.

“She do that often?”

“All the time, man. All the time.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is what it feels like to go mad.

Two hours and a beer later, Prompto was finding that the sharp edges of life had been knocked down a little. By the time he'd opened his second beer, it didn't hurt so much that Noctis wasn't coming up with stupid ways to get Prompto to drink more. By the third, he almost could see Ignis standing by the far edge of the haven, looking out into the night. He was afraid of the fourth.

Gladio and Aranea were swapping stories about fighting with Noctis, and Prompto had added a few comments as they’d gone, but for the most part, Prompto was busy being alone in his own head. It was, he found, a scary place to be. Hallways of thought had started looking less like the gilded halls of the Capital and more like the endless corridors of any number of Niflheim facilities.

He was mentally standing in one such hallway, not even half an ear on the others. His thoughts were swirling, spinning, a dizzy sort of _busy_ in his head that only Noct had understood. “Wish you were here, buddy.”

“D’ya wanna talk about it?”

Reality fell away to thought as Prompto blinked in surprise, and then found himself looking at Noctis. Not the man who had come back from the Crystal, but _his_ Noctis. Young and bright, full of life, but weary. The Noctis who had promised to save Niflheim for him. “Noct…”

“Nope. I'm not really here. I'm the second… maybe the third beer. Don't drink the fourth one; if you do, Iggy will show up and yell at you for getting drunk.”

“Dude. Takes a lot more than beer to get me drunk now. You were the lightweight if I remember rightly. But whatever. Memory, phantom, beer induced hallucination, it's still good to see you,” Prompto was privately convinced that he’d finally lost his mind, but he'd let himself enjoy the madness for a while. “So if you're really me, then you know.”

“Yup.” The pop on the p sounded so _right_. Those blue eyes weren't looking at him.

Prompto didn’t know what to say. Conversation failed when one was keenly aware that you were talking to yourself, and therefore you already knew what you wanted to say. Gamely, however, he played along with his mind. “I’m sorry I forgot to give you your Carbuncle figure. I found it in Taelpar.”

“He can keep watch over you now.” The blue gaze was on him, strangely intense. Noct’s eyes looked less like his youth and more akin to the man who had gone to his own death. It was a jarring juxtaposition and left Prompto standing in the hallway of his mind, feeling more than a little in over his literal own head.

“So this is what it feels like to go mad,” he commented, earning a snort from Noctis. “Dude, I’m standing in a memory in my own head, talking to a dead man who really is my own imagination. If that’s not losing my grip on sanity, I don’t know what is.”

“You’ve lived through weirder,” Noctis pointed out, his eyes once again light and amused, the playful glint shining. “Just think of it as your mind playing out its own video game or something.”

“Yeah, that’s a help. So what do I do now?”

“What would I tell you to do?”

At the voice, Prompto turned, hearing the snort from behind as he moved. Ignis leaned against the wall, young and uninjured, cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief. “Iggy…” at the glance from the advisor, Prompto swallowed. “You'd tell me that it was… no. I don't accept that.” He shook his head. “It wasn't necessary. Not to lose you both.”

Ignis reseated his glasses on his nose and looked to Prompto as he pocketed the square of fabric. “I'm afraid it very much _was_ , Prompto. You know that Noct and I had passed the Kingsglaive bonding trials a month before Insomnia fell, and as such were linked through blood-oath and magic. And given that magic was how I lived, when the magic died..."

“So did you,” Prompto finished quietly. He felt Noct’s hand on his shoulder as the younger man moved past him, and watched as they regarded each other for a moment. “Okay,” he sighed. “I get it. I do. I gotta work through this, gotta come to terms. So I’ll try. I’ll start by telling my psychoses that I’m going to come to terms with them being in my head.”

Noctis snorted, and even Ignis made that funny little sound in the back of his throat that meant he was trying not to laugh. And as Prompto watched, the dark-haired youth reached up and clapped his companion on the shoulder, and then they turned to walk down the hall, away from Prompto. Noctis’ voice filtered back as they moved. “Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

 _Wait, what?_ Prompto moved to follow them, reached out to grab Noctis- and woke up clutching empty air beside the fire where he’d fallen asleep. He flailed at the air again, realized that Aranea and Gladio had fallen silent to watch him, and then cracked a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah….  I fell asleep, ha-ha. No more beer for me. Ever. Weird dreams, man. Weird dreams.”

He moved the bottle from his lap to the stone of the Haven and fumbled around in his pocket for a moment, fishing out the figurine that he'd stored there for safe keeping. It was dirty and worn, but still clearly Carbuncle. He’d clean it up, repaint it, and give it a new home in his heart.

“That Noct’s?” Gladio asked quietly, and Prompto nodded. “Good. Keep it close. He treasured it.” And to Prompto’s surprise, that was all that was said. Gladio turned his gaze back to the fire, and Aranea just smiled at him softly. No-one mentioned his nap or commented on how he woke. They just let it go.

Rising from the chair, Prompto took a deep breath of the early evening air and stretched, the figurine still in his hand. “I’m going to go see if Cindy can come up with some paint for me. Gonna fluff this little guy up.” He turned and then paused. “We need to go to Lestallum, too. I’m going to ask her if we can take the Star.”

“What’s in Lestallum?” Gladio asked, though his words were half occupied with other thoughts.

“Someone very important to Ignis. While I’m working on Carbuncle, I’ll call ahead and ask some people there, see if they know who it is.” He figured he knew who would know, after all. The Kingsglaive were tightly knit, and Ignis had moved in with one of them. Galentius had told him about Jon and Licinia, and if those two didn’t know, then it was one more thing Ignis took with him to his grave.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ever at your side. Well, that was bullshit, wasn’t it?_

Cindy, as it turned out, knew a lot about paint, and was happy to sit Prompto down and explain the difference between pigment and dye while he cleaned up the figurine at the bench in the back of the garage. Most of it went over his head, but he understood the concept of adding something to white in order to get the color he wanted. In the end, she left him with an assortment of shards, crystals, and a quick explanation of grinding and mixing later, he was merrily grinding up whitestone, bluestone, and greenstone.

Prompto quickly caught on that color was best used sparingly, and after a failed start (a highly unusual violent lime green with metallic blue undertones that Cindy said was the _perfect_ color for a project she’d been putting off,) he arrived at the color that he felt was correct: a pale shimmering turquoise that he quickly brushed over the figure, careful to leave the gemstone untouched.

The paint dried quickly, and after adding the white paint and then scrounging up food, the blond gunner dotted the eyes of the figure with metallic black that Cindy had mixed up to touch up a few spots on the Star. They'd both found a comfort in the two items associated with Noctis sharing paint, and they each looked at their handiwork with a sense of longing and accomplishment.

“Well, I think that’s as good as she can get, an’ that little fella’s looking good as new,” Cindy said, leaning in to look at the carbuncle figurine. “I think you’ve made him proud fixin’ that figure up. Now go on and let him dry.” She waved her hat at him in exasperation, and he gave her a little half-smile before ducking away. “Hoverin’ over him isn’t going to do anything but run the risk of messing up that paint. Go on, _get_.”

He left the figure safely in Cindy’s care and went around the garage and into the small room where the radio was kept to call out to Lestallum. Years ago, the radio had been in the garage, but noise and the concern for important information being overheard had prompted Cindy to arrange for a small area be carved out of one of the back buildings for the radio. It was cool and dark and Prompto never had liked it, but that’s what you got when you lived in ten years of darkness and low power consumption.

 

Once inside, Prompto settled into the chair at the desk, and then tuned the radio to the first Lestallum frequency, keyed the mic, and began speaking normally into it. “Lestallum One this is Hammerhead.” He keyed off, took a deep breath and counted to five, then repeated the call. “Lestallum One this is Hammerhead, do you copy?” He released the button, closed his eyes, and waited.

After a few moments, a familiar female voice came over the radio. “Hammerhead, this is Lestallum One… Argentum? Is that you? Praise the Six! We’ve all been waiting for word. The Dawn… King Noctis?” Of course. Licinia didn't know. The news hadn’t yet made it to Lestallum and he was the lucky winner of the ‘tell the Crown’s men that the wrong man survived’ lottery.

He hadn't wanted to tell her this way. Not over the radio, from miles away. It was so impersonal. Cor’s radio protocol fell to the wayside, and Prompto just spoke. It wasn't as if they were coordinating maneuvers. “Yeah. They did it. Noct and Ignis. Together to the end.” _Ever at your side. Well, that was bullshit, wasn’t it?_  “Look, we’ll be coming to Lestallum in the next few days… Ignis didn't have dog tags like the others, but…” Emotion got the better of him, and he released the button, covering his face with his hand, unable to continue.

The radio was silent for so long that Prompto thought perhaps the connection had been lost, and he was almost glad of it, for it gave him time to compose himself. But then her voice crackled into the airwaves. “Hammerhead, this is Lestallum One. I… understand. We grieve with you. Any loss to the crown is a loss to us all.”

_The crown’s gone too,_ he thought bitterly, and wiped his eyes, glad that he was alone in the small room. “Thanks. It… it means a lot.  Gladiolus and I will come up, bringing what we have. I think Ignis would want his companion to…” he faltered, then rallied. “To have his necklace. So, we’ll bring it.” Short sentences were the only way he could manage the words without choking on them.

“Understood, Argentum. Take care of yourselves and we… we will see you soon.” Her voice sounded strained, and he couldn't blame her. She was only just finding out what he'd known for days. Days. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the desk until he heard her voice again. “Lestallum One out.”

Prompto moved, protocol demanding, and keyed the mic. “Hammerhead be clear.” He released the button, eyes fixed on an invisible point in the near distance as his mind spun. He spent some minutes just focusing on his breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth, just as Aranea had showed him, calming himself. Only after he felt his mind calm did he put his head back down on the desk, close his eyes, and just _exist_ for a while.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Titan himself came and opened up the earth beneath Prompto, he’d have willingly jumped in and begged the Archaeon to close it up after him.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed when a hand rested on his shoulder, and a soft but gruff voice spoke. “The hardest thing about being in command is telling people that their loved ones have gone. Hardest part about that is when you yourself loved them too.”

“Yeah,” Prompto replied, picking up his head. “You end up reliving it all over again in your head. It wasn’t even avoidable, Cor. He died because Noct died. After Altissia… after the Crystal… Ignis used Noct’s magic to stay alive. He knew all along that the moment we retook Insomnia, the moment Noct ascended… he’d die. And he didn’t tell anyone.” Prompto’s voice fell quiet, the words almost a whisper. “That's the worst part of it. He did it alone.”

Cor grabbed a chair near the desk and flipped it around to sit in it and look at Prompto. “Prompto, Ignis was above all else, a strategist. He’d probably weighed the outcomes of the battle, and known that you wouldn't have fought as well knowing that he was going to fall at some point. You’d have been watching him, worrying that this was the moment. This was it. This was when he was going to go. He wasn’t being selfish, and he certainly wasn’t alone. He was with you all the way, fighting until the end according to Gladio.”

Prompto bit his lower lip again, making it bleed. “He was, right in the thick of it. I’d never seen him move so fast or fight so cleanly. He made it look effortless, like a dance.” He’d thrown himself fully into the fight because he’d known he wasn’t coming back. And then he remembered the words Ignis had said as Noctis had climbed the stairs and they’d turned to the approaching daemons.

_Prompto, if you see an advantage, take it. I’ve nothing left to lose._ He’d thought, at the time, Ignis had meant to shoot past him. (Which he had, several times, his heart in his mouth for fear he’d hit the advisor.) Now, Prompto understood it was forgiveness and acceptance if Prompto had. It made tears spark in his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be. You never asked for this. You had cursory training and that was it. You were never supposed to become the best shooter in Lucis. You did anyway. You rose to the occasion, defended your best friend, and still managed to keep your heart intact.” Prompto found himself staring at Cor in amazement as the Marshall spoke. “You know, I was a lot like you, but somewhere along the way, I lost my heart, let the world beat it out of me. You fought back.”

He felt ashamed as he sat there and looked at Cor’s arm in the sling, bitterness rising to fill his throat and push the words out of his mouth. “You _know_ , right. That I wasn’t born. I was made, cloned to become an MT. Fighting… it’s in me, all the way down to my DNA. I’m good at it, but that makes me worry that I’m going to hurt someone.” He waved at Cor’s arm. “That I’m going to do stuff like that to more people. And when it comes down to it, maybe the wrong guy survived.”

“You can get that thought out of your head right now. Try to feed me that much bullshit again and you and I are going to have a discussion you won’t enjoy,” Cor growled, and Prompto blanched. “Son, do you think for one moment that you made it this far without somebody knowing who you were? Do you truly want to insult Regis that way?”

Prompto stared at Cor, swallowed, tried to speak, swallowed again, and then squeaked. His face burning in dismay, he tried again. “He knew?” The words were still embarrassingly high. “ _You_ … knew?” If Titan himself came and opened up the earth beneath Prompto, he’d have willingly jumped in and begged the Archaeon to close it up after him.

Cor gave Prompto a tolerant look, the sort that seemed to ask why this was a thing, while at the same time managing to express explicit disbelief. “Son… Prompto… Very little got past Regis, so of course we knew. He knew everything about you before the day you set foot in the same school as Noctis.”

Prompto sat back in his chair and stared at Cor, disbelieving betrayal rising to replace the bitterness. “You knew. You knew everything, and didn’t tell me. Let me grow up in that house with parents I barely saw, and you knew.”

Cor held up a hand. “Hang on, we didn’t know everything. We knew you came from Niflheim, and we knew your fate was to have been an MT. That’s what we knew, what we were told when you came to us. You called yourself Besithia, and looking at you, I can see your relation. I’ve stared at enough photos of the man to see the similarities in the shape of your eyes now that I know what to look for.   Verstael Besithia’s son, Crownsguard and best friend of the Dawn King of Lucis. This world is the damnedest place.”

Anger, betrayal, bitterness, all the pain and loss balled itself into Prompto’s gut and he stood, turning to pace in the tiny room, needing some outlet for the energy and refusing to hurt Cor again. “He wasn’t my father. He was my genetic source. Nothing more. But I’m better than him. I have to be.”

Cor rose, and with two steps was in Prompto’s path. Prompto looked up, glaring at the older man, but his ire turned to confusion when Cor gently took Prompto’s arm, moving the barcode away from scratching fingers, and tracing the raised welts that the blond hadn’t realized he was making. “This,” he said, tracing the ink, “Doesn’t matter.” He tapped Prompto’s chest, over his heart. “This is what matters, son. Don’t ever lose sight of that.”

Prompto was pretty sure it didn’t. “My heart’s broken, Cor. Just like the rest of me. Broken, damaged, whatever you want to call it. And I’m not your son.”

“Maybe you should have been.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I remember thinking that this scrawny blond kid scared half out of his mind still had the balls to pull a weapon and defend his best friend against the world.

“Maybe you should have been.”

The words echoed in Prompto’s head, and when he swallowed, they rippled down his throat, leaving it strangely pained and tight before they burrowed into some little hole in his chest and burned there, leaving him struggling to breathe. He recognized the sensation as strangely akin to the same one he’d felt years ago when Cid had referred to him as a brother to Noctis. Pride, longing, need. _Hope_.

He looked from his wrist still carefully held by Cor’s hands, and met sky blue eyes with a shyness he hadn’t felt since his early days of school. “I think I would have liked that,” he finally said quietly, his shoulders dropping. “One of the first things you did after Insomnia fell was look after me, make sure I was okay. Not gonna lie, you scared the hell out of me, but I looked up to you.” _Still do._

Cor actually cracked a smile at that. “I remember thinking that this scrawny blond kid scared half out of his mind still had the balls to pull a weapon and defend his best friend against the world.” He moved one hand from Prompto’s wrist to fish around in his pocket, pulling out a bag. “Don’t move.” He moved his other hand, opened the bag and poked around inside for a moment before pulling out a small tin.

“Gladiolus and Ignis moved around Noctis like fighters learning each other’s movements, and you just threw yourself in the middle with every good intention, throwing them off balance and challenging them to get better.” The tin, once opened, contained a pungent salve that Cor worked into the scratches on Prompto’s wrist. “And in the process, you got better too. Better at fighting, better at supporting the others, and better at hiding your own insecurities.” He tapped the underside of Prompto’s wrist for emphasis.

Prompto looked at his wrist, the skin between the lines of the tattoo angry and red. “You do what you have to, you know? Ignis used to say ‘onward,’ and Aranea, she says ‘keep walking.’ Me, I park it all right there, on those lines. That’s where the pain goes.” And where he scratches to remember how to feel, a way to push back the numbness because he’d rather feel pain than nothing. “Where do you put yours?”

Cor lifted his gaze to Prompto’s, and then went back to working the salve into the scratches. “I put mine on the edge of my blade. Every daemon I cut down, every MT I eradicated, I added to that pain and sharpened it into something I could use to protect and serve those I could. Keep your wrist there.” He put the tin to the side and rummaged once more in the bag, retrieving a small packet that he tore open to reveal a white cloth.

As Prompto watched, Cor expertly folded the cloth and then wrapped it about Prompto’s wrist, tying it off an tucking the ends in against themselves. “That should keep the injury protected. I’d suggest you not aggravate it further, but I know you.” Those sky blue eyes scanned Prompto’s for a moment, and then Cor tucked things back in his bag and returned it to his pocket.

“Yeah, thanks,” Prompto replied, dropping his hand and watching Cor for a few minutes. “Um… the big guy and I are going to Lestallum. Gotta give Ignis’ necklace to his companion. ‘Cause he didn’t have dog tags, and I thought he might want something to remember Iggy by. You want to come along?”

Cor made a sound that reminded Prompto of Noct’s snort. “Hell no. I have no place there. You boys-“ he cut himself off, then started again. “You young men went above and beyond Crownsguard. In fact, someone I knew a long time ago would have used a big word like… transcended. It’s your duty.”

That made Prompto sigh softly.“Yeah, well, at any rate, someone needs to do it, and Ignis was like a brother to me, so I’d be doing it duty or not.” He cast a glance at the quiet radio. “It’s gonna be hard, though. It wasn’t easy telling Licinia over the radio… having to look Ignis’ companion in the eye while telling him that Iggy’s gone…”

“And I just told you that telling someone that their loved one is gone is the hardest thing you’ll ever do next to telling your own loved one goodbye. You’ve done the latter, you can do the former. It won’t ever get easy, and it shouldn’t. The day it gets easy is the day you lose heart.” Cor said, fixing Prompto with a hard look, his eyes suddenly reminiscent of crystal.

Prompto flashed back to Cor’s earlier comment. _You know, I was a lot like you, but somewhere along the way, I lost my heart, let the world beat it out of me._ “Wait, Cor… are you telling me it’s easy for you?” Panic threaded through him, his heart skipping a beat to suddenly race in his chest. He wasn’t sure why it had, as Cor had never indicated he was anything other than a solemn warrior. It wasn’t like he was an MT or anything.

The words came with a sigh. “No, Prompto. I’m trying- and failing- to reassure you, to tell you that you can do it.” Cor pinched the bridge of his nose in a fashion that reminded Prompto of Ignis, and the blond couldn’t help the flicker of a pained smile. “I’m not good at this stuff. Send me after a daemon and I’m your man. Put me in front of a young man looking for guidance and I’m over my head.”

“Guess we’ll just have to figure it out together, then.” Prompto replied with a deliberately easy tone. “I mean, it’s never too late to learn a new trick, right?”

“Son, did you just call me an old dog?”

That hadn’t been Prompto’s intent, but now that he thought on it… “I should go check in with Cindy and see if the Star is ready to take to Lestallum. Talk to you later!” He scurried out of the room, trying not to grin when he heard Cor chuckle softly under his breath. Yeah, he could get used to Cor as a father figure. He could indeed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t the same Prompto who had left Insomnia either. Still there, though the still good was somewhat in doubt in his opinion.

The Star of Lucis was ready for Prompto and Gladio, as was the small figurine that now sat perched on the dashboard of the Star. Prompto almost wanted to leave it there, but was afraid it would get damaged, so he tucked it into his trusty old vest pocket.

Truth be told, the vest had seen far better days, and between patches and mending, it didn’t much resemble the one he’d worn as they left Insomnia all those years ago. Still, Prompto was a nostalgic thing, even if he pretended he wasn’t, so he kept the vest. He felt a sort of kinship to it- it wasn’t how it had started out, but it was still there, still good. He wasn’t the same Prompto who had left Insomnia either. Still there, though the still good was somewhat in doubt in his opinion.

He laughed at himself softly, and popped the trunk for Gladio to drop his bag in. There had been a brief discussion about presentation and how Prompto was going to do this right, so Gladio had put on everything but the coat of his Kingsglaive uniform and then packed that for the trip.

There had been some grumbling about wearing the uniform, and Prompto had to remind Gladio that this wasn’t for them; this was for Ignis. And Ignis stood on ceremony, so they would on his behalf. That shut Gladio up for an hour, and he didn’t speak again until they were out past Keycatrich.

That was fine by Prompto, who had refused to hand over the keys to the Star. He’d seen Gladio’s truck, and old habits died hard. Prompto was going to drive and if Gladio didn’t like it, he could walk. Or stay. Prompto hadn’t cared which.

Gladio finally broke his silence with a question that Prompto hadn’t expected. “So… Aranea, huh. How’d you charm her into that? She didn’t seem the settling down type.”

Prompto snorted, choosing to ignore his internal anxiety that Gladio was getting a dig in on him, and was actually trying to talk. “She’s not. The settling down type, I mean. But she’s pretty amazing and for some reason she picked me. I’m still not sure who made the first move, but it’s good. We’re happy.” He pressed onward, despite the voice screaming in his head. “What about you, big guy? Got anyone?”

“You,” came the response, and while Prompto was busy trying not to drive off the road, Gladio let out a laugh. “Easy, chocobo. Had to do it; the tension in here was as thick as flan.” He rumbled another chuckle, and then continued. “And no, don’t have anyone now. Wasn’t sure I was coming back, so I let her go.”

“Dude, that’s tough. Gonna go find her?” With the tension broken, it was easier to ignore the anxiety and talk. He didn’t take his eyes off the road, though. This was the Star, after all, and if anything happened to it, Prompto was sure he’d be haunted for the rest of his life.

Gladio huffed and shifted in the seat beside Prompto, trying to stretch out his legs. “Don’t think so. We had a fight when I told her I might not come back from Insomnia… told me I was giving too much of myself to a man who had left the word in darkness.”

“Damn.” Prompto suppressed a flinch. “That’s… shit, man. I’m sorry.” He tried to wrap his mind around that much bitterness and failed. “I’m afraid that’s how a lot of people feel. I mean, it wasn’t his fault, but Noct’s disappearance didn’t really help the view of the Royal line.”

“Yeah,” Gladio replied. “People who knew Noct, the folks he took the time to help, they know better. But some of those people are gone, and let’s face it: there are more people we couldn’t help than we could back then.” He put the window down and stared out at the passing scenery of Alstor.

“Noct would have helped them all if he could have. Little man with a huge heart.” Prompto said wistfully, putting his own window down and letting words dissolve into the wind for a while. It was easier than keep taking about Noctis while he was driving. He didn’t want to have to explain to anyone that he’d lost control of the Star because he’d been crying about Noctis.

 

The silence endured until they reached Pallareth. Then Prompto broke it by closing his window and clearing his throat. “So we’re meeting up with a member of the Kingsglaive; there’s two or three that settled in Lestallum. Licinia, Jon, and someone named Stasios. I’ve only really spoken to Licinia, she’s pretty cool. She’s married to Jon I think. I’ve talked to him once or twice on the radio. Sounds like an okay guy. Don’t know much about Stasios, except that he helped Ignis get that daemonaria thing going.”

Gladio grunted and closed his window to make talking easier. “I heard you did some liaison work between Hammerhead and Lestallum while I was in Caem and Taelpar. Who knew you’d turn out to be such a good diplomat? Going to look into politics?”

Prompto snorted hard. “Hell no. Noct… Noct wanted to bridge the distance between Lucis and Nifelheim, to let the refugees from both empires in to the rebuilt Insomnia. If I have to do anything, I’ll help with that. But I’d much rather be quietly behind the scenes, working to keep the world safe. Kinda got used to it, you know?”

“It’s not a bad calling, Prompto. Being a diplomat. It’s what I was hoping for Iris, back before everything went to hell,” Gladio replied, and Prompto dared cast a glance his way. He had a faint smile on his scarred lips, and that in turn made Prompto’s quirk a little.

The Star slipped through the tunnel into Lestallum, easing smoothly through the turns, and Prompto sighed. “There it is, up ahead. We’re meeting at the Leville, so once I park, we get our game faces on, okay?”

“Yup.” Gladio grunted. Prompto could tell he wasn’t looking forward to this any more than he was.

 

It was easy to find a parking space and pull the Star in. Easy to get out, walk to the trunk and get out his coat. He put it on, allowing the weight of the fabric to act as a buffer between his heart and what he had to do, buttoning the uniform and clasping the collar with rehearsed ease. Beside him, Gladio was doing the same, even though it was damned hot.

Blue eyes looked to brown as Prompto closed the trunk and locked the Star of Lucis. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we come full circle, with the main story at long last complete.  
> There will be more Tales, though, so keep on the lookout for them.
> 
> Thank you all for accompanying me on this wild and heartbreaking ride. I love you guys. You're the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry at me on Tumblr under user name Autrix (for my writing) and eveshka (for FFXV and everything else.)  
> I promise I don't bite unless you want me to. ;)


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